


The Bells of Insomnia

by Strange and Intoxicating -rsa- (strangeandintoxicating)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ignoct Week, Kisses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 16:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeandintoxicating/pseuds/Strange%20and%20Intoxicating%20-rsa-
Summary: The memories of eight kisses over nearly three decades of life.





	The Bells of Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> I needed super sweet Ignoct. I mean, It is basically my bread and butter at this point.

Their first kiss is sloppy and covered in peanut butter.

 Ignis is six years old and he's helped Noctis sneak into the kitchen, following the smell of sweet caramelizing sugar and a nutty aroma that leaves their little mouths salivating. They know what it is—brown sugar peanut butter cookies—and they both know that it is for after supper, and only for after supper.

But Ignis also knows there's a way into the kitchens that was made a long, long time ago.... and that the kitchen staff are unlikely to miss a few cookies. After all, it is a palace and even ghosts must get hungry sometimes. And they're so close to the small corner of the kitchen that the adults had forgotten about that really... it's just a few feet away. He can do this.

Ignis pushes up his glasses and covertly nods to Noctis, who stands on wobbling feet. He looks nervous, as though his father will appear at any second to catch them off guard, but Ignis knows that the King is terribly busy, and even if he wasn't, there would be no way His Majesty would ever be found in the kitchen like a common scullion.

When Ignis tells Noctis this, Noctis pales. "There's scallops in there?" 

Ignis doesn't even try to correct Noctis, instead grabbing him by the shoulders to pull him close as an adult scuttles by. No wonder they were called scullions, with all of their quick movements.

"Wait here, Noct. I'll get them."

Noctis pulls him close for a moment before letting go, pushing him just a bit toward the exit. "Don't get catched."

"Caught."

Noctis sticks out his tongue, but it doesn't deter Ignis.

Ignis takes a breath before he peaks his head out of the crack in the small door. He ducks out, leaving the door open just enough for Noctis to watch him as he runs.

And run Ignis does—runs like Ifrit is on his tail— and he's got an entire plate of gooey cookies in his hands and he's frantically hoping that no one can see him. He can see Noctis's quivering cheeks and wide eyes. He can _do_ this. The adults aren't here, and there are so many plates already...

One plate won't mean much, of that Ignis is certain.

Just as long as he gets back, as long as he makes it back.

Ignis feels his stomach drop as he hears the creak of the other kitchen door, and he knows he only has seconds to get to the door and inside before both he and the cookies are history. 

Noctis doesn't scream his name, but he is quick to throw open the door, giving space for Ignis to run through. The door hits the stone and bounces back, and Ignis is thankfully inside before Noctis stumbles forward and grabs the metal handle, pulling it closed with a clunk. 

They don't breathe for a moment as they listen to the sound of chatting outside before someone yells, "That goddamn man! I swear to the Astrals—" but Noctis has his hand over Ignis's mouth and Ignis is shaking, the cookies in his hands quivering and jumping on the plate.

When the door outside slams with a scream of, "Cor!" Noctis finally lets go of Ignis's face. He's pale, paler than Ignis has ever seen the prince, and he isn't sure if it's from the fear or the way the light from the magicked tunnel crosses his cheeks. 

"I think... I think we did it?" Ignis whispers and Noctis grabs a cookie with each hand from the plate and shoves ones right into Ignis's mouth. It's soft and warm, the peanut butter and chocolate from the cookie tasting like heaven in his mouth. Ignis barely has a moment to try to chew before Noctis grabs him again with both cheeks, cookie crumbling against Ignis's cheek, as he presses a fat kiss against Ignis's chin.

"Thanks, Iggy."

"A—anytime."

 

* * *

 

It's difficult to remember the next kiss because Ignis knows that there were many in between, but these ones are special. It's just after the Marilith attack, and there isn't much for a ten-year-old to do but wait. Ignis knows that he needs to leave Noctis alone, to give him space to heal and wake. But Ignis also knows that this is his best friend, and all he wants to do is have Noctis awake and living. He wants to steal cookies like they did when they were little, or to paint the marble floors a muddy gray. He wants those streaks of light across the night sky, Noctis's hand curled in his own. He needs Noctis to open his eyes, because without Noctis what was the point in the night sky?

In the light of the sun, no one can see the beauty of the stars.

He waits for Noctis to wake up, shirking his duties and his classes. He knows that the adults are worried, but there is nothing they can do or say to sway him. Even King Regis asks him to go, but Ignis doesn't even say a word. How could he leave when even King Regis stayed?

When he says that out loud, the man—not the king—sighs in a way that speaks of countless nights of sleeplessness. Who is he to deny Ignis the only thing, the only warmth, that keeps him from going mad?

"Then at least sit down. You're wearing a hole in the carpet."

Ignis should feel guilt in taking up space next to Noctis, but it is the only thing that keeps his heart beating and the scream from clawing its way up his throat. In all of his classes, they never warned that it felt like this. He knows what death is, understands its intrinsic nothingness, and yet..... Noctis is alive and fighting, but his skin is so cold. They never tell you what it feels like to lay next to a body almost depleted deplete of life, but now that Ignis knows he never wants to do it again.

Even in his fear, though, Ignis never leaves.

Instead, Ignis allows his own body to cocoon around Noctis, careful not to touch the gaping wound across his back. Instead, he takes Noctis's hands into his own, pressing his lips against them. He hopes that his lips can breathe life into Noctis, that from sheer force of will he can pull Noctis from the darkness.

The only time he leaves Noctis's side is when the Crownsguard pulls him from the bed after his tears have dried to the pillow below and his body is too tired to fight against them. They wash him and clothe him, slip a spoon with watery broth between his lips before tucking him back into the bed next to Noctis. He is ten years old, but he feels like he is an infant all over again.

And Ignis listens, even though he doesn't really understand what it means. They're worried about him, yes....

Was it even possible for a child to die from a broken heart?

But Noctis doesn't give up, and Ignis doesn't, either. He keeps breathing, keeps their hands twined, and Regis watches in vigil over them until Noctis stirs from his sleep. And it seems like so much longer than it was, but to a child, there is no counter in days or hours on what it feels like to almost lose a part of your own heart.

And Ignis rests their foreheads together and presses small kisses to Noctis's eyelids as if it will make Noctis open his eyes. There's not much else to do but wait. 

* * *

 

When Ignis is nineteen, he feels like the world is suffocating and he doesn’t know up from down, left from right, and certainly why kissing Noctis feels like the most right thing on the world even though he knows that it is wrong.

It’s supposed to be a simple night, with an equally simple dinner and a simple monster killing game. It’s a routine they’ve worked through so that they can just have “friend time” every once in a while, when the pressure became too much and they both need a second to unwind. Noctis is a Prince, with all the pomp and circumstance afforded to one in his position, but Ignis knows him better than that. He knows Noctis is in that place in his head, the place right between certainty and uncertainty where the crown weighs heavy like an albatross around his temples.

He needs a night off, a simple night.

That’s not what they get, and it’s anything but simple.

Ignis wants to ask what set Noctis off when he crashes into the apartment, eyes alight and hair mussed. There’s something on the collar of his shirt, and Noctis knocks his hand away when Ignis reaches out.

“It’s nothing. Quit it.” He stalks into the kitchen, throwing his school bag right into the fruit bowl, knocking a precariously placed apple straight onto the counter. It rolls to the edge, but Ignis is faster. Noctis doesn't even look, and is quick to move toward the fridge, throwing it open.

“It’s dumb.”

But Ignis knows better. It’s in the undercurrents of Noctis’s voice, in the roiling magic that is almost palpable in the winter air.

“Highness—“

Noctis all but flinches at the word, and Ignis nearly bites down on his tongue to stop himself from apologizing.

“Noct. What is it?”

“Just let it go, Specs. It’s nothing.”

But as Noctis slams the door of the fridge closed, Ignis sees the pink gloss still smudged on the corner of his chin and what seems to be a red handprint snaking its way across Noct’s cheek.

Ah.

Ignis gets it now. 

“How is your science project faring?”

Noctis doesn’t wince, doesn’t particularly move. It’s almost as if his body has opted to remove itself from the space it resides. If Ignis didn't see how Noctis’s nose flares he’s pretty sure he would have assumed Noctis finally figured out the Lucii magic for creating warping decoys.

Ignis inspects the apple he caught, trying to keep his voice like tempered steel. He doesn’t want to give away even the slightest of emotion, lest Noctis see… or know. But Ignis _does_ know.

His cheeks and neck turn a dark, ruddy color that only accentuates the pink on his collar and the slap across his face. He fiddles with the container in his hand for a moment before shrugging. 

"Fine.” He reaches down to yank open the cutlery drawer, pulling out a spoon. He pops the lid off the container in his hand, tossing it onto the counter next to his bag. He digs into the container with his spoon, not even bothering to look down.

Ignis can’t help but let his eyebrow raise ever so slightly. “Oh? Because that’s sour cream, Noct.”

Noctis has it halfway to his lips before he looks down and sighs in disgust before throwing the entire thing into the sink.

“That was supposed to be for your nachos—“

“She tried to kiss me.”

He says the words in such a rush that for a moment Ignis has to puzzle them out, as though they were one of those thumb puzzles. He could almost hear the tiles in his mind rearranging the pieces, the verb and the nouns and the shame.

“Oh.” Ignis already had a feeling about what happened, but he thinks… it was the other way around. He’s been preparing himself to say something since catching that glimpse of pink. Noctis has to be careful, he has to be respectful, he can’t kiss someone without their permission.

“What did you do?” 

Ignis wishes his voice wasn’t quite so low, quite so broken.

Noctis smacks his hand into the faucet, spraying water through the mess of sour cream. He grips the sink and puts his head down, shoulders hunched over.

It’s hard to hear Noctis over the running water. But though his voice is faint, Ignis knows Noctis better than he knows himself.

“Pushed her off. She slapped me.” Noctis seemed to sink further in on himself. “The whole library saw.”

Ignis thinks that this is probably for the best, even though he doesn’t share it with Noctis. He knows the shame of rejection, of loving someone and knowing he can’t have them. For some, it could very well drive them to madness. Baseless accusations, cruel words, tattered friendships and even legal ramifications. Noctis is the crown prince, and a little girl with a crush and equally crushed heart would be a nightmare for them to deal with.

Ignis knows it well.

But he also knows the embarrassment Noctis has to be feeling. To have such a private moment be public… no. Ignis doesn’t know. Noctis, for all his bravado, wears his heart on his sleeve. 

Ignis keeps his locked away from prying eyes and the fragile heart pinned to a sleeve like cufflinks in front of him.

Ignis doesn’t know what to do, not exactly. Nonetheless, he allows himself to tentatively step toward Noctis as though he were a terrified rabbit, reaching out to let his fingers brush against the back of Noctis’s suit. 

He almost expects Noctis to jump, but the tension lines in the suit slowly disappear as Noctis’s shoulders sag and Ignis can’t stop himself from resting the apple on the counter and allowing both hands to rest against Noctis’s back. 

He can almost feel the scar through the fabric, and knows that he wishes more than anything that he could be ten years old again. No one would ask questions when he presses his lips to the fabric. No one cares for the affection between two children.

But Ignis is nineteen and Noctis is seventeen, and they both have duties that they cannot hide from. And if anyone sees Ignis nuzzling his cheek against Noctis’s back, letting his mouth rest at the junction where the scar crosses his spine... His hands migrate up to Noctis’s shoulders, feeling Noctis’s breaths.

“It wasn’t how I wanted my first kiss.”

Noctis reaches back and pressed his hand down on Ignis’s.

“I’m sorry, Noct.” Ignis allows just one chaste kiss to press against his knuckles.

He knows Noctis understands because when he pulls his hand away he presses it against his mouth.

“Me, too.” Noctis pauses before murmuring, "I... is it possible I can get a do-over?"

He sounds almost scared, the vulnerability in his voice reminding Ignis of those days so long ago when Noctis was injured and Ignis would have done anything to see his friend smile again.

"I should think so."

Noctis leans harder against his hands and slowly turns himself. Ignis's hands are on his chest, curved into little balls that speak as loud as words.

It's soft and slow, and Ignis almost thinks he's dreaming through it. There's a stiltedness to their movements, of bodies that know each other but did not quite understand how to come together. It's nothing like the movies Ignis's seen before, but it's still unique. It's still special.

It's still theirs.

Noctis pulls away only a moment after Ignis closes his eyes, and it takes all of his strength to allow himself to open them again, fearing what would be on the other side. But it's still just Noctis, wearing his school uniform with the reminder of a first kiss only present upon his cheek and his collar.

He smiles, and that's enough for Ignis to know that everything is going to be alright.

* * *

 

Dancing has always been fun for Ignis, though he knows that Noctis loathes it beyond comprehension. He expects that the only real dancing he's going to be doing on his birthday night is the standard waltz with a young woman, perfectly acceptable of a young Count in need of a bride to bear children who can carry on the Scientia name. More so than just a name, he is the confirmed advisor to the Crown Prince, who is busy right at that moment shoveling hors d'oeuvres into his mouth, leaving a trail of toothpicks in his wake.

Well... not confirmed yet. Soon, though. Very, very soon.

Ignis can't leave yet, no matter how tedious and stodgy it is. To do so would be the scandal of the—Ignis stops himself from thinking any further, because he knows that there are other things that are happening tonight that are far, far more scandalous.

He knows it's why Noctis's eyes can't leave him and why the blush is climbing up his cheeks like ivy twisting around stone. He can feel it in his hands, in his toes, in even the hair atop his head. 

No one bats an eye when Ignis parts from his date of the night, a debutante who is all smiles that don't light her eyes the way Noctis's do when he kisses him.  

"So soon?" she asks, and Ignis gives a cordial, albeit stiff, bow. "Do be careful with the swords... they look very sharp."

Ignis swallows down the fear he feels the fear blooming up into his chest as he sees Noctis pull himself away from his pile of toothpicks. The king has his hands raised, and the hush that descends upon the party makes Ignis feel as though every single one of them knows what will happen later tonight. Do they know what Ignis and Noctis have planned? Do they have the foggiest of how sweet Noctis's mouth tastes and how much Ignis wants to lose himself?

If they do, no one says a word, and Ignis instead stands as still a death as Noctis brushes by. The only touch is their knuckles ever so slightly touching, a whispered kiss of skin against skin.

Ignis shivers. Before that moment, though... there is something important.

The knighting of the Sword Sworn.

Ignis has been looking forward to this moment since he was five years old, sitting next to Noctis as he listened to King Regis talk of the fealty of the Sword Sworn to their King. On Ignis's twentieth birthday, when he became a man, Noctis would share his sword with Ignis. It's been a day that Ignis has been counting down to since he was the little boy.

Of course, the ceremony itself its much different, much more private. The binding of two souls together is never easy, and it's why they've chosen tonight. No one would dare question them tonight. 

And if after it seems that they are closer? No one will be the wiser, Ignis knows. The others will only think that it is the magic between him and Noctis that brings them together. It won't make Ignis love Noctis more—because Ignis knows there is nothing that will make him love Noctis more than he already does— but the idea of there always being that connection, that promise, pulls a small smile from the corner of Ignis's mouth.

Noctis smiles back as King Regis instructs Ignis to his knees, the thrill of looking up into the shadows of Noctis's face making his heart race in his chest.

This is for show. This is for the world to understand the devotion Ignis swears to his future king. Few follow them to the Crystal room and only King Regis, Clarus, and Gladio dare witness the transfer of magic between King and Sword Sworn.

None witness them later, once the night finishes with clinking glasses in salute to the future King and those who will be at his side.

And it's almost sad, Ignis thinks, that no one else gets to see Noctis the way he is when the lights are dimmed and the curtains drawn. Ignis doesn't want to share, that much he knows, but he also wishes he could tell them what they are missing.

This kiss begins softly as they dance to the metronome of their own pulses. They're chest to chest, their hearts reaching a rhythm between skin and bone, but there is also something else there. Ignis know that this is the magic he has accepted into himself fully. He accepted his role as Crownsguard when he was eighteen, but this feels so much more different.

He feels alive, more alive than he's ever felt before.

They've waited to kiss like this, to allow their bodies to come together until now, and Ignis can't regret it for even a moment.

"Nice and slow, Iggy‚" Noctis whispers, but then pauses for a moment. "I mean, if you still want to..."

Ignis kisses him into silence. He's been ready for this moment for an eternity.

"Make love to me, Noct?"  
  
"Of course."

* * *

 

It's a sickening sort of humor the Gods have, Ignis realizes. It's when things look their brightest that the sun is blotted out of the sky and the Magitek come. He's been listening to the reports all day about the Wall and the damage inflicted upon it by a monster of a daemon—they called it WEAPON, but Ignis knows better.

This thing isn't a weapon. It's a magical Armageddon waiting for the button to be pushed, and Ignis isn't keen on being to one to hit that button.

He knows there's something on the horizon, something terrifying and altogether deadly that will come when the dust has settled and the dawn rises in the morning. But for now, all Ignis can do is hold Noctis in his arms.

Noctis was always supposed to be special, and Ignis knows that. He loves Noctis all the same—not because of his future, but in spite of it. He knows that the challenges that Noctis will face are going to be difficult, more difficult than he can even imagine, but he knows that he will never leave Noctis's side. 

So they stay curled up next to one another as the newsreels show the monstrosity just outside the Wall, and Ignis doesn't say a word as Noctis cries. Instead, he presses kisses against Noctis's head, wishing that he could offer more comfort, more confirmation, more something ( _anything_ ) to hold the pieces of his broken prince together.

 

* * *

 

Ignis hasn't kissed Noctis since... 

Ignis doesn't want to think about the last time he kissed Noctis. It was their last night in Insomnia, their last time to hold one another without the weight of the world on their shoulders—the weight of a wedding gown and a sham marriage.

Ignis is the one who tells Noctis that it must end. He didn't want to then, and he regrets that choice every moment of every day. But the prince must be with his future bride, and by the Gods Ignis will do anything to make sure that Noctis is safe. Blast his feelings, blast his love.

All that matters now is that Noctis is unharmed, that Noctis is happy, that he gets to live however he wishes.

He wants to drop the facade when Insomnia falls, but the wound is still raw, the rejection still a stain across his cheek. It reminds him of all those years ago when Noctis wanted to recreate his first kiss. Even now, knowing the pain of what would come in the future with Oracles and Gods, Magitek and Men, Rulers and Puppets, Ignis can't regret the decision to kiss Noctis all those years ago. 

How is it possible to regret the thing that makes him feel alive?

But Ignis regrets not kissing him before Altissia.

And now he feels like ash whispering its farewells to the light. He's going to die in this Godsforsaken metal hell, that all Noctis will find is his corpse. But Noctis is alive, Noctis is safe, and the only thing Ignis can cling to is the memory of Noctis's mouth against his that one last time, the night Noctis begged him to stay and he couldn't say no. The night Noctis promised to stay with him, both knowing in the morning that it would be a faraway dream left upon mussed sheets.

The travel to Galdin Quay was torture, and the time after was even worse. All Ignis wanted to do was give comfort to Noctis, but he didn't.

He regrets that now as he feels the Ring twist around his finger, but he knows that he can be stronger. He can _do_ this.

He can end Ardyn Izunia, even if just for a little while. Just long enough to let Noctis live.

Ignis lands the killing blow and feels the man shatter into shards of poison. In that exact moment, Ignis can hear Noctis and perhaps the Gods have shown him mercy and have already taken him instead of letting his body slowly die.

But then there are hands pressed against his, and he can feel Noctis pulling at his shoulders and lifting him, and there's something wet hitting the burns on his face and he cannot see until he _can._  

Noctis is what he sees first because of course it is Noctis.

It is always going to _be_ Noctis.

The kiss is one that rips away his foundations and lays him bare and aching in front of the world. It's the same kiss that knits his wounds and calls forward a feeling Ignis has buried down as deep as it could go. The roots are visible, the pain makes a testament across his skin, but he is breathing and he can _see_ Noctis.

He can see the tears, the vaguest shape of Noctis's face, and the blue of sylleblossoms drifting like snow.

Ignis gave up his eyes to keep Noctis safe. He is willing to give up his life in exchange, but here Noctis is and Ignis can see.

And Noctis kisses him once more before slowly, reverently, passing Ignis to Prompto.

Ignis wants to join him. Wants to follow him into the Crystal so they could be cradled within its embrace together. He's willing to give anything for that, but this moment, this nod from Noctis and the warmth of his breath still on Ignis's chapped lips... It will have to be enough.

* * *

 Ten years.

It's ten years of seeing the world without color until suddenly there's the bright blues of his childhood, the rosy cheeks and pink lips of the one Ignis loves.

Ignis wishes he could have been at Angelgard, but waiting on the beach of Galdin Quay is enough for him. He can see the boat skimming across the water, the traces of the barely-seen sun slowly meeting the place between ocean and air. 

They've slowed down the daemons and though Ardyn lives, he is somewhere between life and death. He's merely a jester when once he could have been king. Ignis already has a king. Ignis always has _had_ a king.

Noctis smiles as he docks the boat, and Ignis forgets ceremony and duty and the past as he finds his feet beating into the wood. He's all but flying and Noctis is in his arms, and Noctis is alive, and Noctis's beard rubs against Ignis's face, and all Ignis can do is hold him as close as two bodies can be. He runs his fingers through matted, dirty hair and pulls him close for kiss after kiss.

He wishes they could stay on that dock for the rest of time, for Ignis to whisper promises and for Noctis to promise them back.

This isn't a fantasy, though. This is not a fairytale, but Ignis knows now what must be done. 

He can save Noctis from the night. 

This isn't going to be their last kiss.

Ignis is sure of it now.

* * *

When Ignis is six, he and Noctis share a kiss of childhood hopes and dreams.

When Ignis is ten, he and Noctis share a kiss of fear and loss.

When Ignis is nineteen, he and Noctis share a kiss of hidden desires and loneliness.

When Ignis is twenty, he and Noctis share a kiss of fealty and pride.

When Ignis is twenty-two, he and Noctis share a kiss of a past that could never last.

When Ignis is twenty-two, he and Noctis share a kiss of goodbye.

When Ignis is thirty-two, he and Noctis share a kiss of hello.

 

* * *

 

 When Noctis is thirty, he and Ignis share a kiss of a future untouched by prophecy or Gods.

 And that kiss is to the sound of the bells of Insomnia tolling for the new Dawn.

 


End file.
